


Femur Fuss

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Relationship, Skeletons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: There is something wrong with one of St Barts skeletons.





	Femur Fuss

Molly didn't often come up to the lecture halls any more. The classes she supervised required were practical and needed either the lab or the morgue. She'd forgotten how different this floor smelt to the morgue. This was the floor of faint chemicals, books and a hint of student panic. The memories of her own studies here had been supplanted by the Day of the Fall. Why did Mike want to meet her up here?

She found Stamford in the main lecture hall. He was staring at the Eddy the Deady. Not that the new crop of students called the skeleton in the corner that; he was back to being Yorick again; they were a serious and sombre bunch this year, and that always worried Molly. The serious and sombre ones tended to burn-out fast.

“What's up Mike?”

He gave her a small smile, but his eyes flicked back to Eddy quickly; “Molly am I going crazy, or does Chris look different?”

“Chris?”

“Yeah, after Christopher Lee, although half my year insisted on calling him Bela. John Watson included, pfft.”

Molly grinned, the Hammer versus Universal debate always split the year group when general consensus named the skeleton for one of the classic horror greats. Personally, she liked both, which put her in a minority that confused people.

“My year called him Eddy the Deady,” - she stepped closer and frowned, something wasn't right here, - “can I?”

Mike shifted out of the way so Molly could get a better look at Eddy's right femur. Ah, so there hadn't been a mix-up putting his thigh bones back last time he'd been taken out for a jolly.

“I don't think you're going crazy, Mike. These are not Eddy's femurs. Erm, can you help me lift him down? We need to check his ID numbers.”

-o0o-

Sherlock strolled into the morgue and tilted his head at the remains laid out on a trolley.

“This is McCoy from the main lecture hall.”

Molly stretched and smothered a yawn with her hand; “It is now. Been on a bit of an adventure. Always knew you were a Star Trek fan.”

The frown on his face wasn't convincing in the slightest, and he clearly knew it because he didn't try to fib about the reason behind the name.

“What adventure did the students take him on this time?”

“Wasn't the students, for a change. Turns out the orthopaedics department has been making a stop-motion film of Eddy and their skeleton Hector. It's pretty good, but they got a few of the bones mixed up after their stars fell apart during a difficult scene.”

“They didn't think to check the serial numbers?” - all display skeletons in St Barts had each bone marked with a four digit number, it saved a lot of time when bits went missing, hard for even the slowest member of the Met not to notice and realise that this wasn't a murder case, All the staff would know about the numbers, so why the error, oh, - “Of course they didn't, because they were more than a little drunk at the time.”

Molly just laughed; “Yep, every good story involving Eddy the Deady has alcohol in there somewhere.”

Sherlock gently tapped his finger against the clean break in the skeleton's left femur. Posthumous, very posthumous; neatly repaired with a metal pin; not by a surgeon, by someone used to handling dead bones; ah...

“How much alcohol had you had when this happened?”

Molly gave the repair a sad smile; “I was stone cold sober when I made the repair, and when I threw the text book that caused the break.”

He waited, he knew that tone, this had something to do with the Fall. He didn't even try to deduce the reason Molly had been angry enough to hurl a textbook, and she must have been very angry to cause this sort of damage. Damn it, stop deducing, get an apology ready. Why? Stupid question, this is about the Fall, therefore you are the cause of whatever caused her upset.

Molly patted his hand; “It was the anniversary. I'd gone upstairs for, well, sentiment, and a Kitty Riley wannabe cornered me, asking all the usual rubbish about you and John, and your cases. I just lost it, started chucking textbooks at them until they made a run for it. The reporter tried to press charges, but Mycroft did his thing.”

“He didn't tell me.”

“Why would he? It wasn't important.”

Sherlock's throat felt thick, he tried to turn his hand under Molly's to hold her and tell her of course she was important, but she'd already moved away.

“Come on help me get Eddy back in place and then I'll show you the interesting intestines of Mr Saunders.”

A delighted smile came quickly to his face, and he moved to the foot of the trolley to kick the wheel locks off; “Is this the sort of interesting that would put your colleagues off red meat for a week?”

“Nope.”

Together they started moping the trolley, Molly pushing and steering, while Sherlock pulled.

“A parasite?”

“Nope.”

“Give me some data about Mr Saunders.”

“Nope.”

“Molly!”

Stamford watched Molly and Sherlock make their way up to the lecture hall, Chris grinned from his trolley between them, as they bickered and bantered. Mr Moholkar, head of orthopaedics, peered over his shoulder and huffed.

“When will those two realise they are married in all but name?”

Mike shook his head; “No idea. So, about this film your lot have been making...”


End file.
